


A Baker

by TheBeeThatHums



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bakery, Big Brother Sherlock Holmes, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Holmes!reader, John Is So Done, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft is a Bit Not Good, Mycroft's Meddling, Protective Big Brother Mycroft, Reader is Twisty, Reader-Insert, Richard Brook is Jim Moriarty, Sherlock Being a Good Brother, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, sociopathic tendencies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-19 00:13:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17591126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBeeThatHums/pseuds/TheBeeThatHums
Summary: When Sherlock seeks out his younger sister after years apart things quickly get complicated for all involved. Who would have guessed a regular at your bakery would turn out to be Sherlock's newest nemesis... our that you would be drawn to him in more ways than just the case.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A beautiful person suggested I write my other Sherlock x Reader as a Moriarty pairing... I liked the idea so much but had already written it with John in mind that I just had to write another under similar premises. I hope you all enjoy. Also I've never written Moriarty before so bare with me when I do actually introduce him.
> 
> Still moving older fics over! This one is unfinished and will be updated soon

We need help.

Those were the last three words that John had ever thought would come out of Sherlock’s mouth.

Even Sherlock seemed rather disgusted by the notion, but it was true nonetheless, and it wasn’t doing them any good to ignore it. He knew that there was something he was missing. He had been going over the case for days now to no avail and time was running out.

Sherlock scowled as he pulled out his phone and dialed the number of the person he despised most and waited as it rang twice before a voice answered, “This is a pleasant surprise, Sherlock. But, as you know I’m very busy, I shall assume that there is a pressing reason for you calling.”

“I need to know where she is, Mycroft.”

John jumped, had Sherlock just called Mycroft willingly? This couldn’t be real. He pinched himself to make sure which Sherlock noticed rolling his eyes.

“If that is all you are calling for then let me get back to my work because I shan’t be telling you.”

Sherlock clenched his jaw, annoyance plain on his face, “I need her help Mycroft.”

“No. I’ve finally convinced her to stay away from you, a task so monumentally difficult that it took years, and I will not have you undoing all my work.”

“You poisoned her against me, unfairly I might add, and I will never forgive you for it, but now I need her help. Lives hang in the balance.”

On the other end of the line Mycroft let out a sad and defeated sigh, “May I remind you that you agreed with my reasoning for removing her from you? But I suppose you’re right. Family matters shouldn’t put the public at risk.”

“So where is she?”

“She owns a bakery called ‘A Slice of Life’ off of Gracechurch. She should be there now.”

Sherlock blinked, that was only 18 minutes away by taxi, less the 30 by tube, from their apartment on Baker Street. ‘Had you really been so close all this time?’ He thought, abruptly hanging up on his brother.

John was still staring at the taller man trying to process what exactly was going on when Sherlock whipped around and stalked off toward the road. He had already called a taxi before John could wrap his head around the chain of events, calling over his shoulder impatiently “Come along John.”

Sherlock ignored John and his questions for the entirety of the taxi ride, swiftly exiting the car as they arrived at their destination only to stop abruptly in front of the bakery’s glass doors.

“A bakery? We came all the way here so you could go to a bakery? Real-“

Sherlock shot him a look that silenced him mid-thought. John sighed thinking, ‘there must be something more at play here than Sherlock wanting a cookie,’ and when Sherlock waltzed through the small shop front’s doors he followed.

It was warm inside and smelled divinely of fresh baked goods, the atmosphere was warm and inviting, and there was scarcely a table unoccupied. Sherlock seemed to be looking for something and not finding it, set his face in a frustrated frown, before making his way to the front of the small line.

He ignored the protest of the waiting patrons, addressing the young woman at the counter, “I’m looking for (F/n). I was told she’d be here,” his eyes still roaming the room.

The young woman looked at him confused by his sudden presence and subsequent demand, and after a moment of hesitation, she yelled over her shoulder, “Boss there’s someone here to see you. He’s holding up the line.”

There came a yell in response from somewhere over by the line of ovens, “I’ll be right there Susan. Just let me get the last batch of chocolate croissants out of the oven. Tell him to wait somewhere out of the way.”

“She says to-“

“I heard,” Sherlock said flatly, shuffling off to the side.

“Who’s (F/n) Sherlock? How is a baker going to help us with this case?”

Sherlock ignored his friend, eyes locking on the person coming out of the rear of the shop.

You skipped happily towards Susan, delivering a plate of freshly cooled cookies to the counter, before turning toward them, looking down to wipe your hands on your apron, “Thank you for waiting! Now, what is it that I can-“

The smile disappeared from your face as you looked up to lock eyes with Sherlock. “Hello (F/n),” he said giving you a sheepish smile.

In one swift motion, you stepped towards him and slapped him hard across the face before throwing your arms around him in a hug, “Three years and all you’ve got to say for yourself is ‘Hello (F/n)’?”

“Obviously” he responded after wrapping his arms around you tightly, returning your hug.

John shuffled his feet awkwardly, he was used to seeing Sherlock get slapped, but hugged? Never.

You pulled away from him reluctantly, allowing them both to take stock of your appearance. You had warm grey eyes that looked as if they leaned toward green when the light hit them, you managed to be shorter than John by a bit, and your won't hazelnut hair, which was pulled back in to a bun at the nape of your neck, was flecked with flour.

Without taking your eyes off of Sherlock, you called over your shoulder, “Susan, there’s nothing in the ovens at the moment and we are fully stocked. I’m taking a break.”

You didn’t wait for her response, grabbing the sleeve of his coat and pulling him to the only open booth. You slid in and motioned for him to do the same stating flatly, “You need my help.”

John opened his mouth, “How did you-“

“Sherlock hasn’t looked for me at all in three years and suddenly he shows up on my doorstep as if he knew I was here all along? It wasn’t terribly difficult to figure out. I'm surprised you stooped to calling Mycroft. It must be something terribly important for you to do so and for him to cooperate.” you responded dryly.

Your eyes flickered over to meet John’s and you suddenly grinned, “My goodness where are my manners! You must be the doctor. Sherlock’s new associate. Which is his way of saying friend by the way… John. Right?” John just nodded giving you a wide-eyed look.

Sherlock gave you a disapproving glare, “(F/n). There are more important matters at hand.”

You rolled your eyes at him, playful smile still on your lips, “Just because you can’t be bothered with niceties Sherly, doesn’t mean the rest of us won't. It’s only polite, something you obviously still need to learn a thing or two about.”

You looked back at John, noticing he was still staring at you expectantly, “Oh right. Sorry. I’m Sherlock’s sister, Kheiland (F/n) Holmes, but really (F/n) will do just fine."


	2. Chapter 2

While John was looking between you and Sherlock, mumbling something about family issues and the world not being able to handle another Holmes, your phone rang out God Save the Queen. You smirked and answered it, “Good Morning Mycroft. I’m afraid you’re getting slow, Sherly is already here.”

You rolled your eyes at his response, “I can handle it My. If the two of you hadn’t decided behind my back that it was unsafe, I would still be living quite happily on Baker St.”

Sherlock could tell you were getting annoyed with your eldest brother as you pursed your lips, “Of course I knew you pompous twat. Just because I’m the youngest does not mean I see any less than you.”

Sherlock and Mycroft scolded you at the same time, “Watch your mouth, young lady.”

You scowled at Sherlock, “Do I need to remind you both that I am an adult? I’ll use whatever language I see fit, thank you very much.”

Mycroft began to say something but you cut him off before hanging up, “Get back to your work Mycroft. I don’t need you babysitting me.”

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow at you and you sighed, “It’s gotten worse since I left.”

“Obviously.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t feel some animosity towards him, Sherlock.”

He gave you a look and you knew that he did before a question left his lips, “If you knew then why did you go?”

You raised an eyebrow as if he should know the answer already, “I went because of you. You both wanted me to stay and to leave at the same time. The conflict and my presence were distracting to you and I couldn’t have that so I left and let Mycroft think he was successful and you that I disowned you. Simple really. I’m surprised you never figured it out.”

John expected full retaliation for your words but to his surprise, Sherlock gave a proud smirk, “Impressive Key.”

You shot him a grin back, “I learned from the best. Though I do wish it hadn’t taken three years for you to come looking for me. I’ve missed you terribly.”

Sherlock opened his mouth to respond but a call from the register cut him off, “Boss. A regular.”  
A wide grin spread across your face and you slipped away before they could protest, “I’ll be right back.”

You moved to the counter and found a familiar face that you always enjoyed seeing, “Good morning Richard. What can I get you today?”

The dark haired man offered you a grin, “Good morning (F/n). Your choice today.”

You smirked and disappeared for a few minutes coming back with a cup of coffee and three different paper bags with goodies in them. You placed the coffee in his hand and then explained each of the bags, “This one is for now with your coffee, this one for after your lunch when you want something sweet, and this one is to share with your new girlfriend.”

He sipped his coffee before answering, closing his eyes as he let out a content hum, “Perfect as always (F/n), you always know exactly what I’m craving. How did you know about the girlfriend?”

You laughed, “I tell you and it ruins the mystery. Where’s the fun in that?”

He shook his head, “An enigma as always. How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing. It’s on the house.”

He gave you a small grin, “Thank you (F/n)”  

“No problem Richard. Good luck with your date,” you said giving him a little wave as he left.

You were slightly jealous of whoever had caught that man’s fancy as he was even more of an enigma than he claimed you were. You knew his name wasn’t Richard and that he definitely wasn’t what he claimed to be but beyond that, you didn’t pry, as much as you wanted to. You knew he knew that you had seen through his ruse and now it was like you were dancing around each other, playing a game of wits with tongue in cheek comments. You loved it.

You took a moment to think as you fixed a few things and set them on a tray to take back to the booth where you knew your brother was impatiently waiting. You set the tray down, dispersing the items- a cup of tea for John along with a simple croissant, black coffee for Sherlock with a couple of jezebel cookies, and a slice of lemon loaf for yourself. You pulled a piece off of it as you slid into the booth, popping it into your mouth after stating, “Alright. Now tell me what case brought you here.”

John eyed his tea a little suspiciously, it was exactly how he liked it even though he’d said nothing, and Sherlock took up a cookie between his thumb and forefinger with a little grin, “Jezebels? Interesting choice.”

You rolled your eyes, “Hardly. They are your favorite and seeing as you haven’t eaten in nearly four days I figured tempting your taste buds was the only way to correct that.”

Raising his eyebrows, he nodded as he tilted his head to one side before taking a bite of the cookie and sliding you the case file. Pulling it the rest of the way to you, you chuckled, “Some things never change.”

You set your lemon loaf down and wiped your hands on your apron before opening the file and spreading it out in front of you. Your eyes scanned each piece of information carefully as you sat back, clasped your hands, and pressed the pads of your thumbs on the underside of your chin with the rest of your knuckles lightly grazing your lips.

“What do you think? Sherlock is focused on-” John started before he felt Sherlock’s hand on his shoulder, “She can’t hear you.”

John looked back at you and sighed before resigning himself to eating his croissant, bloody Holmes’ and their mind palaces.  After a minute you tilted your head and looked up at your brother with furrowed brows, “You’re missing something.”

He rolled his eyes, “Well obviously Key. Are you really that out of prac-”

You were already shaking your head, “No. I mean you are quite literally missing something. The victim has a brother but there’s no interview in here for him, he’s not missing it would be noted, so either there’s a piece missing from this file or Lestrade’s incorrectly ruled him out as a suspect.”

Sherlock took the folder from you with a frown, flipping through it to make sure you were right as John cocked his head at you, “How did you know they had a brother?”

You shrugged with a slight smirk as you and your brother rang out in unison, “Some things are meant to be a mystery.”

Sherlock gave a slight smile, “You’ll never change.”

You shook your head and got up, moving to clear a nearby table “Give Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson my best and Anderson my worst.”

Sherlock frowned, “You can do it yourself.”  

You turned and raised an eyebrow at him, “I’m not coming with you, Sherlock.”

“Yes, you are.”

You began to move away from them, Sherlock getting up to follow you with John in tow, “(F/n).”

“I can’t Sherlock. I have a bakery to run. Besides you’ve got John now, you hardly need my help.”

“That may be true but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it. Your employees are perfectly capable of running the bakery in your absence.”

You sighed, stopping to wipe a table down, “My life is different now, Sherlock. I can’t just drop everything to please you.”

“Why not?”

Sherlock smirked as you hesitated, “Sherly… I just…”

He gave you a forlorn look that you knew was meant to manipulate you and you scowled, “Oh come on, not the face.”

He looked away unhappily, still forlorn, and you sighed, “Fine. Just this case and only this case. Mycroft is going to throw a fit as it is.”  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok guys. This went in a direction that I wasn't expecting so I'm a little sorry for that but I wanted to make the reader someone interesting to Moriarty and we all know his love of using tech to manipulate people. As to what happened between you and Anderson... I am open suggestions as I haven't actually come up with something yet.

They waited as you set things up with Susan so that the bakery would still run while you were gone and then you beckoned for them to follow. You led them through the back where the ovens were and a small office that they assumed was yours, and then up a flight of stairs. All the way you and Sherlock chatted about your most recent work for Mycroft, as where your brother fancied science, you fancied technology, and you often tinkered with things for the government to keep you from the boredom.

I mean come on, what Holmes could ever be satisfied with something as normal as being a baker without something to keep their brain busy?

You let them take in your flat as you pulled off your apron and tossed it at a hamper in the corner before moving to a wide worktable with a number of computer monitors and large screens surrounding it, the large one on the wall in the middle blinking in a pressing way. You balanced yourself on your knee in the swivel chair in front of it and pressed at a few buttons before Mycroft’s unamused face came up on the screen, “What have a told you about hanging up on me?”

You rolled your eyes, “I believe you said, ‘don’t.’ "

He quirked an expectant eyebrow at you and you shrugged, “What can I say? I’m a rebel.”

“You are not to join Sherlock on this case,” he continued after pulling an annoyed face.

You smirked, “Are you losing your hearing in your old age, My? I just said I’m a rebel.”

He glared at you, “Let me speak to Sherlock.”

“Oh Sherly~ Brother dearest would like to speak with you~” you sang, disappearing into another area of the house.

Sherlock took your place with John behind him, smirking so hard even a complete stranger would have slapped it off his face, “Hello Brother.”

Mycroft began to say something but Sherlock simply stated, “Goodbye Brother,” and pressed a button that made the screen go blank.

You came back in with a bag slung over your shoulder and a wide metal brief case in hand, your hair shifted to a sleek ponytail and your clothes changed to a set free of flour. The screen started to blink again and you shoved the briefcase at Sherlock, tapping a couple of buttons again to answer it with a wide grin on your face.

A young man with thick-framed glasses and disheveled hair came up on the screen, startling slightly at the amount of people on your end, “Shall I call back later K?”

You shook your head, “It’s alright Q, I know what you’re calling about. I’ll have it done by the end of the week.”

“No rush,” he said giving you a small grin.

You giggled, “Laterz Q.”

“Laterz K,” he reciprocated and the screen went blank again.

You began tapping away at the keyboard as Sherlock gave you an unamused look, “He fancies you.”

You shook your head, “Don’t start Sherlock. You have John and I have Q… besides he’s far too young for me and I certainly don’t return the sentiment. There. Everything’s set to the laptop now. Let’s go.”

John was freakishly quiet as the three of you made your way back to Baker St. and a look from Sherlock told you that his friend was slowly trying to process the overwhelming amount of information the two of you had just supplied him with. It wasn’t until you were sitting in his chair with a cup of tea that he finally spoke up, “So you’re Sherlock’s younger sister and you run a bakery while developing technology for the government on the side,” you nodded and he continued, “and that man on the screen…”

“What man?” you finished for him with a little smirk and John sighed, “Classified?”

You nodded, “Very.”

Sherlock appeared in the kitchen doorway, “Lestrade wants us to interview the brother.”

Within seconds you and Sherlock were stalking out the door, leaving John to catch up as usual, and the first person you ran into at New Scotland Yard was, of course, Anderson.

John soon found out that your aversion towards Anderson was far stronger than your brother’s as you all but hissed up at Sherlock, “Get him out of my sight before I hit him.”

Sherlock smirked, “You’d best leave Anderson. You know she can be unpredictable.”

The man paled, hightailing it away from the three of you as he called, “Heads up, Sal. The she-freak is back.”

John raised an eyebrow at you, “You seem more corrigible than Sherlock, so I take it something must have happened for you to throw social niceties to the wind?”

You straightened your shirt as a light blush colored your cheeks and Sherlock snapped, “Don’t pry John.”

Your trio continued on towards Lestrade’s office, only pausing when Donavan smirked at you and taunted, “The return of the she-freak. I thought I’d never see the day.”

John noticed Sherlock flinch slightly, his jaw clenching, but you didn’t even look at her, simply responding, “Better than being a home-wrecking whore. Give Anderson’s wife my love,” as you wove your arm around your brother's to pull him forward.

After such a ‘warm’ welcome from those two, John was slightly surprised when you greeted Lestrade with a wide grin and your arms thrown around his neck in a hug, “Good to see you again Lestrade.”

The man seemed surprised to see you but unfazed by your display of affection, though Sherlock did roll his eyes, and returned your hug as he laughed, “And you Holmes.”

You pulled away and produced a paper bag from the inside of your coat to which Lestrade’s grin grew even wider, “Is that-?”

You cut him off with a little chuckle and an eye roll, “Obviously.”

Taking it from you eagerly, he flopped down in his chair and began to munch on its contents- an apple coffee cake that you knew he was particularly fond of- as he gave you some unexpected news, “Mmmm… The brother is mmph.. the brother is dead. Found him an hour ago when we went to pick him up. How is this so delicious?”

You winked at him as he answered his own question in sync with you, “Secret.”

Sherlock looked annoyed, “Is the body at St. Bart’s yet?”

Lestrade nodded and he strode out of the office, leaving you and John to apologize and say a quick goodbye before rushing to catch up with him just as the elevator doors were about to slide shut.

“I thought we agreed to always give it to him after (F/n). It’s too distracting to his simple brain otherwise.” your brother said glaring at you.

You shrugged, “I couldn’t help it. I wanted to see the look of pure delight on his face. That is why I became a baker you know.”

“I will never understand your obsession with making idiots happy.”

You didn’t respond, simply focusing on the doors of the elevator. There was much about you your brother would never understand, as no two sociopaths were the same, and the things you hid from him scared even you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so because Moriarty is very entwined in the Great Game I've decided that I'm going to loosely and occasionally closely use that episode as a base for this series... I hope I can get the personality for the reader in this one right. She's better at blending and interacting than Sherlock but is worse than him on a number of hidden levels and her quirks often parallel his.

From the frustrated look on Sherlock’s face when he emerged from the morgue with John, the brother’s body had held very little information to aid in solving the case, something you’d anticipated. For that reason you hadn’t minded waiting outside to take care of a pressing phone call while they went in and took a look, the call had been more important anyways- a matter of national security.

The cab ride home from there consisted of Sherlock filling you in on what you’d missed while you tapped feverishly at your phone, nodding every so often, and John just looking on with a sigh. As they walked through the door to the flat you announced, “I have some work to do. I hope you don’t mind if I commandeer the table?”

Sherlock just waved a hand, already flopping down on the couch in his thinking position, and John shrugged indifferently, so you set up your laptop and things on the table in the living room and, after slapping an antistatic bracelet on each of their wrists as a precaution, settled in to work.

A number of hours later, Sherlock bolted up, finding John in his chair with his laptop and you in the middle of dissecting what looked to be some sort of satellite-targeted grappling gun, a pair of magnifying glasses pressed on your face. He smirked at you, “You owe me ten pounds. I’ve figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” you hummed distractedly, not looking up, and Sherlock rolled his eyes, “The case, of course.”

Pausing in your work, you looked up at him with a quirked eyebrow, “You were still working on that?”

He blinked at you and then had a realization, letting out a sigh, “When?”

You went back to your work as you responded, “Nearly three hours ago. I texted Lestrade and he’s already made the arrest… so I believe it is _you_ that owes _me_ ten pounds. You’re getting slow, Sherlock.”

John stifled a chuckle as Sherlock rolled over to sulk over the fact that you’d not only figured it out first but that you’d hadn’t told him right away and you continued on as if nothing had happened. It was around five in the afternoon and you could have easily gone home but you had wanted to see how long it took him to figure it out and now you were more than focused on your work- it made more sense to stay. You’d missed 221B and Sherlock anyways.

It was tensely quiet for a while and when John absolutely couldn’t take it anymore, he went out to get some take away for dinner and some air, hoping that giving the two of you some time alone would help.

“You can’t sulk forever, Sherlock,” you stated when the outer door to the flat shut downstairs and he simply grunted, causing you to laugh.

He scooted so you could sit next to him when you put down your work to join him on the couch, tucking his toes under your arm as you stretched out in the opposite direction of him. There was barely enough room for the both of you to sit like that but somehow you always managed to fit and he studied you from his position across from you for a long moment.

When you leaned your head back with a tired sigh, he started in, “You’ve taken on more work from the government than ever before in addition to nearly single-handedly running your bakery, doing most -if not all- the baking yourself. You’ve dated three… no four men and two women since you left but none of them could keep up with you or keep your interest. Not to mention the fact that Mycroft has been doing his duties as an elder brother and discreetly sabotages any dates with those he does not approve of which in this case is all of them. You talk to Mycroft as little as possible because you are angry with him and the excessive amount of work you put upon yourself has isolated you from your usual group of friends... You are bored and lonely, little sister.”

You patted his leg lightly, closing your eyes, “I was not lying when I said I missed you terribly. Three years is quite a long time to go without being challenged on both a professional and personal level. Mycroft tries to keep me from going completely off the edge with challenging assignments but I’m afraid technology can only go so far.”

Sherlock stroked your leg sympathetically, knowing that feeling all too well and unable to imagine going as long as you had without simply blowing something up, “Come back then. Challenging each other as we used to keeps us both sharp and I certainly wouldn’t mind having you along with me again.”

A hesitant look passed across your face and he pressed, “You don’t have to stay here. Keep your flat and the bakery… it seems to provide as good a distraction for you as the violin does for me, but join me on cases again. I know John will feel less animosity towards me with you along- you always were better at dealing with social conventions- and I’d like to make up for lost time.”

“But Mycroft-“ you started and he was quick to cut you off, “We’ve both long since stopped listening to him. Why begin to do so now?”

A wicked grin spread across your face, “A fair point, elder brother.”

“Glad you find it such, little sister,” he hummed, returning just as mischievous a grin, and the two of you giggled at each other.

John came home to the ringing sound of gunshots, bolting up the stairs to find you folded in his chair rapidly typing away at your laptop and Sherlock slouched down in his own chair across from you the gun hanging loosely from his long pale fingers.

He rapidly demanded, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Bored,” you offered, not looking up, and Sherlock echoed the sentiment, making John bewilderedly stumble, “What?”

Before John could move further into the flat, Sherlock was up and shooting the wall again as he shouted, “Bored!”

You rolled your eyes as John grabbed the gun from him, “I do wish you’d find a quieter way of dealing with it, Sherly. What happened to the crossbow?”

“Didn’t pack enough punch,” he answered simply as John gaped and then he huffed, “What is it with the criminal classes these days… at the very least they could mix it up. Rude, is what it is.”

John's eyebrows shot up, “So you take it out on the wall?” 

“The wall had it coming,” he answered dully, flopping down on the couch as John blinked at him and you flatly stated, “Hardly.”

Sherlock glared at you for a moment, “It certainly deserved it far more so than the object of your boredom. Who are you toying with today?”

“Anderson and by extension Donovan.”

He gave a weak chuckle, “I take it back. They are more than deserving.”

“Do you think he’ll ever figure out why the elevator door keeps closing on him?” you wondered lazily and Sherlock scoffed, “Of course not. He’s an idiot.”

John looked between the two of you and then furrowed his brow, “What?”

Sherlock sighed, “It’s quite simple, John. Honestly. When there is nothing else to do and the boredom sets in, (F/n) hacks CCTV -among other things- and messes with the lives of strangers and those she dislikes. Today she has rightfully chosen Anderson. I suspect she may even be behind your row with the chip and pin machine.”

John looked accusingly towards you and you shrugged, “I have no idea what he’s talking about but if I did, I could assure you it was only a passive-aggressive expression of jealousy.”

Sherlock snorted, “John could never replace you, (F/n)”

Though you wouldn’t admit it, John was fairly certain that Sherlock's suspicion was correct and was mildly smug over the fact you’d been jealous of him before turning his attention back to the wall. He ran a hand down his face with a sigh, he should have known two Holmes' under the same roof was never good- no matter how corrigible you seemed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I give credit to BBC for their fantastic dialogue- which I borrowed for this chapter because I loved it so much and now I promise that the next few chapters will be far more original... I hope.

You listened to Sherlock and John bicker for a moment, making Anderson’s computer play some pretty nasty porn that just got louder when he tried to get rid of it, and looked up when Sherlock exclaimed, “Oh! You meant spectacularly ignorant in a nice way… Look- It doesn’t matter to me who’s… prime minister or who’s sleeping with who or-“

“or that the earth goes round the sun,” John offered and you and Sherlock sighed at the same time before Sherlock started in, “that again- It’s not important.”

“Agreed,” you huffed, returning to tormenting Anderson as John looked between the two of you and exclaimed, “Not important…? It’s primary school stuff… how can you not know that?”

“Well if I ever did I deleted it…”

“Deleted it?”

“Listen,” Sherlock started and you sighed, knowing exactly where this was going, before he pointed to his temple and continued, “This is my hard drive and it only makes sense to put things in there that are useful- Really useful.”

John didn’t look any less confused and you could see Sherlock getting frustrated so you tried, “I think what Sherlock is trying to say is that ordinary people fill their heads with all kinds of trivial, unimportant rubbish and that makes it hard to get at the stuff that actually matters.”

“Exactly,” your brother exclaimed, gesturing to you with a hand before leveling John with an expectant look, “Do you see?”

He floundered for a second, looking between the two of you, before frustratedly shouting, “But it’s the solar system!”

You threw your head back and let out an exasperated note before groaning, “You’re on your own, Sherly… I don’t have the patience.”

Your brother quite possibly had less patience than you and quickly snapped, “Oh hell… What does that matter? So we go around the sun- if we went around the moon or round and round the garden like a teddy bear it wouldn’t make any difference… All that matters to me is the work.”

He paused and then ruffled his hair as he added, “Without that my brain rots. Put that in your blog -or better still stop inflicting your opinions on the world.”

You sighed as he angrily flopped to face the back of the couch and then shot a glare at John for putting him in a mood. That was the last straw for the poor doctor and he pushed himself out of Sherlock’s chair and left the flat, passing Mrs. Hudson on the stairwell. She gave the door a light knock before spotting you and giving a gleeful grin, “(F/n)? It’s been ages, dear. So good to see you again!”

You bounced up to give her a hug and a wide grin, “And you, Mrs. Hudson. I do hope my bratty brother hasn’t been giving you too much trouble in my absence.”

Sherlock harrumphed, forcefully pressing himself into the couch, and Mrs. Hudson continued on her way to the kitchen with you trailing her as she asked, “What’s with him? I should think he’d be ecstatic that you're back.”

“They’ve had a bit of a domestic,” you hummed and Sherlock walked over the furniture to watch John leave as you went to flop down on the couch where he’d been and offered, “You shouldn’t press things with him, Sherlock. He’s good for you… I’d hate to see you drive him away.”

He ignored you, looking quietly out the window for a moment, and you sighed- it was obvious he cared for John but couldn't figure out how to keep his personality and quirks from pushing his buttons in all the wrong ways. In a way that was why the man was good for him: he put up with Sherlock just enough that he might start altering his abrasive behavior to keep him from leaving.

You groaned softly, feeling the urge to bake… or maybe test out the grappling gun, just to keep from the boredom for a few minutes and Sherlock almost perfectly narrated your thoughts, “Look at that Mrs. Hudson. Quiet… Calm... Peaceful.”

He sighed heavily, “Isn’t it hateful?”

“Heavens yes, just loathsome,” you huffed and Mrs. Hudson could help but chuckle, the two of you were so alike at times… it was good to have you back together. Sherlock had sulked and stormed around angrily for a long while after you left, it had gotten so bad she’d had to call Mycroft to come get him out of his mood. It was like he was a child deprived of his security blanket throwing a temper tantrum and she imagined that you had acted much the same.

“I’m sure something will come along soon. A nice murder will cheer you both up… get you out of the house. You are staying, aren’t you (F/n)?”

“Not to live, I’m afraid, but I intend to come round far more often. We’ll need to appropriately catch up after all,” you responded, giving her a grin as she paused in the doorway to the flat. She caught sight of the bullet-ridden wall above you and gaped, “Hey! What have you done to my bloody wall this time? Can’t you find something better to do than abuse it- Look at (F/n). She’s never done such a thing.”

You smirked and she jabbed a finger at him, “I’m adding this to your rent, young man.”

Once she was gone, Sherlock looked at you with pursed lips, “One of these days I’m going to tell her it was you that created that scorch mark under the carpet.”

“No you won’t,” you sang, pointing out, “You want your secrets kept and as a result you will keep mine… it wouldn’t do to have her kick you out now would it?”

He silently mimicked you, scrunching up his nose, and then was thrown forward as an explosion erupted through the flat, shattering the windows and throwing glass everywhere. The first thing you registered was a ringing in your ears, having the foresight to brush your face off before cautiously opening your eyes to search for your brother. While he was still on the floor, likely experiencing the same ringing, he looked entirely unharmed aside from probably being a little bruised from the fall.

You shifted to sit up, finding that you were covered in shards of glass since your position on the couch facing the window had been in the direct path of the brunt of the impact. The ringing started to subside as you carefully pulled some of the bigger shards from your clothing and the faint sound of Sherlock’s voice calling your name came in to focus. You blinked, slowly turning to answer, and found that he was right next to you, looking at you with concern clouding his eyes. You furrowed your brow at him, “What?”

“You’re bleeding,” came the response, completely clear now, and he brought a hand up to trace the cut on your cheek, bringing your attention to the fact that it stung terribly. He pulled away when you hissed and offered you a hand to help you up from the couch before letting you brush yourself off while he went to the door to call out, “Mrs. Hudson! Are you alright?”

“Just fine, dear. How about you? Should I come up?”

“We’re both fine. Stay where you are until we’ve cleaned up some of the glass.”

He returned to you, cupping your cheek to tilt your face and get a better look at the damage- you had a number of minor scratches that weren’t anything to worry about but the cut that had first caught his attention went rather deep and was oozing a fair amount of blood. Still, it was nothing a few butterfly stitches and some antiseptic couldn’t fix and he pulled you over to the kitchen to take care of it.

“I’m sure it’s fine, Sherlock. It only stings a little,” you sighed, trying to shake him off, and he gave you a look before ordering, “You’re going to let me take care of it.”

You quirked an eyebrow and he huffed, admitting, “You know I can’t bare to see you hurt, Key. Please?”

You pursed your lips, trying not to give in despite the fact he’d said please, so he added the face… that forlorn slight pout that got you every time, and you caved, “Fine. Just quit it with the face and hurry it up so we can get this place sorted.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK I PROMISE JIM WILL BE IN THE NEXT CHAPTER... This is a Moriarty fic. I promise. I just needed to set up some things about the reader and her tendencies.

You and Sherlock had just finished boarding up the windows, the glass cleaned and the damage to the flat managed as best it could be, when Mycroft appeared in the doorway. In a few long strides, he had your face in his hands, tilting it in the same way Sherlock had as you gave a displeased huff, “I’m fine, Mycroft. It’s just a scratch.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “Had you not been here like I asked-“

“Don’t start with that. I’m old enough to make my own decisions just as Sherlock does.”

“Brother mine, go see if Mrs. Hudson requires any assistance. (F/n) and I need to have a little chat,” Mycroft ordered, his inquisitive eyes never leaving yours, and for once Sherlock did as he was told- as entertaining as it was to watch the two of you bicker something told him this time it was different. You turned from your eldest brother once Sherlock was gone, fiddling with some papers, and Mycroft very gently commanded, “Look at me (F/n).”  

You did as he asked and he pursed his lips, “Can we set aside our petty differences for a moment and have a civilized conversation? You know I only do what I do out of worry for you.”

“I know, Myc, and you know I love you even if I act as though I don’t, but at some point, you are going to have to let me make my own decisions. I’m not asking you not to meddle, that is an impossible feat, I just want you to trust that I can handle myself.”

He gave a heavy sigh, “Surely you can see why I do not, (F/n). Your sociopathic tendencies are very different than Sherlock’s and, though I hate to admit it, you would have no qualms over becoming a ruthless criminal simply because you find it interesting. The bakery channels your manipulative behavior into a positive outlet- running about with Sherlock does not.”

You rubbed at your eyes in frustration, “For three years I’ve been miserable, Mycroft… Let me stay. I will remove myself should my behavior stray to the less than moral end of the spectrum. I've learned my lesson- I will not make the same mistake again.”

It was very quiet for a long moment as he studied you and then sighed, “Alright, (F/n), but should I find your judgment questionable I will intervene.”

“Thank you, My,” you murmured and surprised him by pulling him to you in a hug, something you hadn’t done once in the three years since he made you leave. He returned it, resting his cheek on top of your head, “Precious things need to be protected, little sister. That is all I strive to do.”

You squeezed him tighter in response and then parted as Sherlock came through the door, shooting Mycroft a glare as he purposefully shoved his way between the two of you to get to his chair. You and Mycroft exchanged a glance- Sherlock always got jealous when you got along, feeling like you were being stolen away from him, and at this moment it was even worse because he knew the two of you had a secret that you were keeping from him. Holding back a groan when he scooped up the violin, you leaned against the table and asked, “Why is it that you’re here, Mycroft? I know it is not solely out of concern for our well being.”

He shook his head, sliding into John’s chair, “I have a case for the both of you. One that requires your unique skill sets… it’s very important that you handle it as quickly as possible.”

Tuning out the passive aggressive argument and violin notes that ensued as Mycroft explained the case, you slipped into the kitchen to make tea- while Mycroft wanted you both on whatever this was, it went without saying that it was Sherlock he had to convince. If Sherlock went, you would simply follow and without him, you would refuse. After giving them each a cup, you went to retrieve your own, coming back just as a very flustered looking John burst through the doors, “I saw it on the telly. Are you okay?”

Sherlock seemed confused for a second before following John’s eyes to the destruction, “What- what? Oh. Yeah, fine. Gas leak apparently.”

“Tea, John?” you offered, already going back into the kitchen, and his eyes snapped to you, having forgotten you had been there when he left, “Yes, thank you (F/n).”

Your brothers continued their argument and when you came to press a cup into John’s hands he gave you a questioning look, to which you shrugged. He then noticed your cheek, leaning in slightly to get a better look at it as Mycroft droned, “This is of national importance.”

“How’s the diet?” Sherlock jabbed back and you huffed, giving his ear a tug as you walked by to lean on the table again. He clenched his jaw, looking royally displeased that you had done so, but didn’t turn to retaliate as Mycroft enunciated, “Fine.”

The steam from your cup dissipated as you brought it to your lips and pushed a stream of air over it, Mycroft looking past Sherlock to you in hopes of some form of help, “A little help would be appreciated, (F/n).”

“If he does not want to do it Myc there is nothing I can do. You know very well how stubborn he is,” you hummed, closing your eyes to enjoy the warmth coming from your cup.

He sighed, “Then perhaps you can get through to him, John.”

Still trying to compute the situation through his curiosity over the interaction between the three of you, John startled, “What?”

You sighed, bored with the entire situation, and then grabbed your laptop and the metal briefcase, slipping towards the door while the three of them had an awkward little chat. You were nearly home free when Sherlock’s voice demanded, “Where are you going?”

“Home. I have some business to take care of and frankly you three are boring me,” you responded, not stopping lest one of them try to bring you back into their conversation. They let you leave, your brothers knowing that something had put you in a bad mood and that it was best just to let you go and John trusting their judgment.

It was your own thoughts that had soured your mood, the realization that you now had both your brothers back in your life bringing up some less than favorable scenarios in your head. As if it wasn’t bad enough having two overly protective brothers, there also had to be an astronomical amount of sibling rivalry between the two. It made your life that much more difficult with the two of them either trying to one-up each other over who could protect you better or teaming up to shelter you in the extreme. One of the benefits of your lifestyle over the past three years was that you’d pretty much escaped that- with Sherlock out of your life entirely and Mycroft only peripherally involved. You were used to their meddling but having a little more freedom had been enjoyable… you weren’t ready to give that up.

Trying to take your mind off it, you opted to walk for a bit, watching the people you passed as you wondered how long it would take Mycroft to notice you’d stolen his pocket watch. Five blocks later you decided that was enough and hailed a cab, settling into the back seat just as your phone buzzed to life, “Case at NSY- SH”

“I’ll catch up later- KH”

The response came at the same time as a call from an unknown number and you chuckled, picking it up to coo, “Hey Mysie.”

“I want it back, (F/n). Untampered with.”

“Only if you’ll go to the dentist like you were supposed to.”

There was a brief period of silence and you knew your brother was trying to figure out a way out of it, relishing the fact that there was none as you waited for his response. He finally sighed, “Fine. I will go.”

“I will know if you don’t, Mycroft.”

“Of course.”

“Good. I will return it once you have.”

He started to protest but you simply hung up on him, knowing that would annoy him almost as much as having to go without his favorite pocket watch until he complied, and let out a soft giggle at the thought of his bothered face. The rush that came from manipulating ‘the smart one’ in your family was so immensely satisfying it completely erased your negative mood, lifting your spirits high. You fingered the intricate pocket watch happily, not feeling guilty in the slightest- It was for his own good after all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the reader gets carried away... and you meet Jim- again. I wonder what he thought of all of that.

The next few hours had Sherlock pestering you so much that you simply had to ignore him and silence your phone, you’d already told him you’d join him on the newest case as soon as you could… or rather as soon as you felt like it. You’d been home and showered, tucking Mycroft’s pocket watch rather contently into the pocket of your jeans with the chain attached to your belt loop, and had stopped briefly at the bakery to lend a hand during the midmorning rush before gathering some things and bailing. You just had one more stop and then you’d give in to Sherlock’s demands, walking into The National Gallery and claiming a seat in front of what you deemed to be the least pointless of the paintings.

You didn’t get art, it seemed so dull and futile to your logical mind, but the reactions of others to it were most intriguing and you found the preoccupation of ordinary people with its value odd. The gallery was fairly empty at this time of day and you closed your eyes to enjoy the rare moment of nearly complete silence before a voice softly broke it, “Nice to have a quiet moment to think isn’t it?”

You smiled, not opening your eyes, “Yes but I prefer to have someone to share it with.”

“Good thing I showed up then.”

The quiet settled in again for a few minutes as you wrapped up your thoughts and then you opened your eyes to greet your companion, “Hello, Q. Lovely to see you again.”

He grinned, pushing his glasses further up his nose, “And you K.”

Getting straight to business, you slid the case you’d been lugging around with you all day into his lap before looking back to the painting, “It’s finished. Satellite targeting for a perfect shot each time, topographical scanners for unfamiliar areas, retractable for continued use, and a selectable tip for either gripping an edge or penetrating a wall. It can pierce steel, iron, and most other metals and carry loads up to one hundred thirty-six kilograms.”

He was still looking it over when you stood, startling him slightly, “Leaving so soon? I was hoping we could get coffee.”

Offering him an apologetic smile, you explained, “My brother requires my assistance and he lacks patience.”

You leaned to press a light kiss to his cheek, murmuring, “We can catch up later,” and then, while he was still stunned, slid a packet with a couple of biscotti into his hand, “For your coffee.”

You were gone before he could respond, happy with your handiwork and excited to annoy your brother when he deduced what you’d done, and skipped out to the street to hail a cab to take you to St. Bart’s, where Sherlock was likely somewhere between a conniption and a mental meltdown.

St. Bart’s was the same as you remembered it and you followed the familiar route to get to the lab where Sherlock usually worked, bursting enthusiastically through the door to nearly run into a brunette girl that you didn’t recognize.

Before you could do your usual meet and greet or even look her over to deduce, Sherlock snapped at you, “You’re late.”

You went completely into work mode when he held a pink cell phone over his head for you to take, as you corrected, “I can’t be late if I never gave you a time. Can I take this apart?”

“No. Hostage Situation,” he offered still not looking up and you gave an annoyed sigh, flicking through the phone before delving into the inner workings of the operating system, “Who’s the girl?”

“Molly.”

“What happened to-“

“Retired.”

“Shame… I liked him.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and Molly managed to recover from your sudden appearance, “W-Who are you exactly?”

You gave her a wide grin, remembering your manners, “Oh right. Sorry about that. I’m Kheiland, Kheiland Holmes, but I prefer (F/n). You must be Telly’s replacement.”

Turning from her, you slid the phone back to Sherlock, pouting, “It’s horridly boring if I can’t take it apart.”

Just as you said it, a familiar face popped through the door behind Molly and she turned to grin at him, greeting, “Jim! Hi.”  

You locked eyes with him for a moment, each of you questioning the other, and then Molly offered some introductions, “Well, I’m Molly Hooper and this is Jim. Jim this is Sherlock Holmes and uh…”

“John Watson. Hi,” John supplied as you watched the scene with curiosity, it was obvious this girl liked your brother, and when she turned to you, you saved her from trying to remember your name, stepping forward to offer him a hand, “Kheiland (F/n) Holmes. Nice to meet you.”

Richard, or Jim as he was in this setting, shook your hand and then turned his attention to Sherlock. That was the last part of the conversation you paid attention to, zoning out to think about the man in front of you. He was putting up a very convincing front of being Molly’s gay boyfriend and despite it being a huge red flag you hadn’t blown his cover- it was too interesting.

He’d seemed as surprised to see you as you had been to see him, though ordinary people wouldn’t have picked up on that, and you chuckled internally that he hadn’t thought to dig into your past enough to figure out who you were. At the bakery, you went by (F/n) Rutherford, your mother’s maiden name, to avoid people connecting you with one or both of your brothers and you'd altered a lot of the surface records to reflect that but he seemed like the type of person who would find the real stuff underneath with enough motivation.

You were pulled back into the conversation when he turned his dark eyes to you and wondered, “So you’re Sherlock’s sister?”

Opening your mouth to answer, you quickly found that you weren’t able to give one as Sherlock had finally glanced up to give you a once over and, as he looked back to his microscope, growled, “I thought he was too young for you, (F/n).”

Forgetting the curious man in front of you for a moment in favor of annoying your brother to the extreme, you gave a wicked smirk, “Would you prefer I went for someone older? John, perhaps?”

Before he could stop you, you’d pressed your lips to John’s in an insistent kiss and Sherlock quickly yanked you away as he snapped, “Stop that. No toying with John or do I need to remind you what happened last time?”

Going a bit wide-eyed as what you’d just done sank in, you shook your head almost violently as you mumbled, “Sorry, John,” and then pressed a hand to your temple, “I have to go… get some air… or something.”

You slipped out, moving down the hall to lock yourself in a storage closet so you could think. That had gone too far too quickly… you’d been so focused on messing with your brother that you’d forgotten that it affected other people, that they weren’t just objects to use in your plan, they had emotions too and your action effected them.

This is what Mycroft had meant- you would throw almost anyone under the bus just for the sake of keeping yourself entertained without a second thought. That is unless you managed to pull yourself out of it or someone did it for you like Sherlock just had. You were a good person at heart and you cared about people more than either of your brothers but this other side of you was capable of anything- that was why you scared yourself and why Mycroft worried like he did.

Shaking your head, you tried to focus yourself again, fingering Mycroft’s pocket watch as sort of a lifeline back to acceptable behavior, and then went back to the lab to help Sherlock with the case.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I SUCK AT MORIARTY I'M SO SORRY. He's so OCC that I'm embarrassed. Hopefully it'll get better... Whateves. Sorry again.

After apologizing to John profusely, you tugged a lock of Sherlock’s hair, “I may have kissed John but you injured that that sweet girl… I’ve told you time and time again that it’s sometimes best to let people discover things on their own.”

“I was only trying to help,” he said, batting your hand away without looking up, and you rolled your eyes, picking up one of the trainers to look it over while he went over what he’d gotten from them. He was reaching the end when you tilted your head, causing him to pause, “Tell me.”

“Something about this seems familiar but I’m having trouble placing it…. 20 years… I was barely ten and you only thirteen. Mycroft had just left for university,” you trailed off pressing a thumb to your lips in thought. Sherlock blinked a couple of times and then softly breathed, “Carl Powers.”

Your head snapped up, “What?”

“Don’t you remember? Carl Powers…. It’s where I began.”

“Oh…” you hummed, tilting your head at the shoes, “This just became a lot more interesting… and personal.”

It took only seconds for you to get lost in your mind and Sherlock narrowed his eyes at you, trying to figure out what was going on in your head. It was a futile attempt and he quickly abandoned it moment later in favor of sorting through his own thoughts.

You were quiet all the way back to the flat and long after that, throwing yourself onto the couch while your brother worked at the table. It wasn’t until Sherlock sent John to meet with Mycroft that you moved, languidly rolling off the couch and then getting up to follow him out. Sherlock didn’t look up but almost immediately demanded, “Where are you going?”

“To bake,” you offered simply and with that you slipped out of the flat, making your way back to the warm haven of ovens and flour you’d created for yourself.

You always thought best when kneading dough or mixing icing and before the bakery you’d filled the flat with various baked goods when you had a case. Back then you’d pawn them off on friends, you were fairly social, and your brothers- much to Mycroft’s chagrin. During what you and Sherlock liked to call the Not So Big One- a particularly challenging case that had lasted for over a month, your eldest brother had ended up nearly ten pounds heavier after you’d gifted him four different cakes of fairly substantial size with extra frosting.

Now you had the bakery, which almost always needed you to bake more. It was late afternoon but luckily the bakery was always busy and the ovens ran most of the day to keep up with the demand for fresh goods. On top of that, it was Friday and people were out late with hankerings for a cookie or a cupcake so you could make a few batches without having to worry about them going to waste.

Three batches of cookies and two trays of cupcakes later, you stood back from the ovens and fingered the slip of paper in your pocket. Richard or Jim, as you had decided that name suited him better, was a very interesting mystery to you now. You didn’t even bother to hack through files or do your usual cyberstalking as you did with those you found interesting because you knew you wouldn’t find anything.

Over the past few hours, you’d been piecing things together- he hadn’t known you and Sherlock were related, so he’d not only been interested in you beforehand but had also not anticipated your presence in the lab. You were an unplanned surprise in what seemed to be an elaborate and carefully calculated scheme targeting your brother. He was powerful and dangerous- a criminal. You should have told your brother, even now you knew you should tell him, but when something was as interesting as this, you couldn’t bring yourself to ruin it with Sherlock’s odd sense of morality.

Instead, you’d picked your brother’s pocket to take the number that Jim had left, the same number that was in your own pocket now. You pulled it out, running your fingers over the writing- Should you contact him?

It could be dangerous…

You smirked to yourself, whipping out your phone- who were you kidding?

You loved danger.

When James Moriarty received a text on his phone from an unknown number he expected it to be a Holmes but was wrong as to which Holmes. It gave a time and a place and nothing more- simply signed KH. Intrigued, he finished up his job faster than he’d planned and went to clean up… it wouldn’t do to show up for this little meeting with blood on his shoes and shirt. He had not been happy that your connection to the Holmes boy had slipped through his network unnoticed and there were those that had to pay for that utter incompetence. And they paid dearly.

The place you had picked was a very upscale bar well away from where your brothers or John would stumble upon you and you already had a drink in hand when your companion arrived. You spotted him as soon as he walked in through the mirror behind the bar, giving a curious smile at the new style of clothing. He had on a black suit- an expensive-looking Westwood- with a red shirt under a dark grey tie with little black widows on it. His hair was neat for the first time in all the time you’d known him and he’d noticed you looking at him, making eye contact with you in the mirror.

You pointedly ignored his gaze, returning to your drink as he approached you, and in a matter of seconds his breath was on the shell of your ear as he purred, “Fancy seeing you here, Miss Holmes.”

You shot him a smirk, “I must say I like the new look. Suits you.”

“Back at you, darling,” he hummed and you picked up a light Irish accent as he took your hand and pulled you to stand so he could give you a slow twirl to look you over. You had picked out a shimmery golden cocktail dress for the occasion paired with matching shoes and the whole thing looked killer. You loved dressing up but rarely got the chance, which was one of the reasons you’d picked this particular bar. Not to mention you wanted to impress this man… this very interesting man.

You studied him closely once you were facing him again and then quirked an eyebrow, “You know my name now… do I get the pleasure of knowing yours?”

He tutted you, responding as he leaned to kiss your knuckles while retaining eye contact, “That would ruin the mystery and where’s the fun in that?”

You let out a lilting laugh, “Fair enough.”

The two of you looked each other over carefully as you claimed a booth in one of the darker corners and as soon as you were settled he pursed his lips, “You haven’t told your brother… nor do you intend to. Why is that?”

You knew he knew the answer but responded anyways in a smooth purr, “You intrigue me.”

He looked smug for a moment before you turned the question back on him, “I am a wrinkle in your master plan- it would be beneficial for you to remove me from the equation and yet I still breathe. Why?”

The devilish smirk that spread across his face made your heart flip flop in your chest as he rumbled lowly, “Because you intrigue me as well.”

A long moment of prolonged eye contact ensued as your heart raced and then he suddenly grinned in an almost goofy way, gleefully exclaiming, “And I’m overly fond of your cookies.”

You chuckled and for the first time in your life, you felt like maybe you’d found a man that wasn’t a total waste of your time. This could be the beginning of something new and very, very entertaining.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was... very hard to continue. I think it was because even back in the day I didn't write Jim a lot so it was hard to get back into that mindset. Be gentle.

“Stop helping him.”

You looked up with a curious raised brow at Jim’s sudden demand. The two of you had been chatting almost casually for a few hours as night settled in and the longer you spoke, the more impressed and intrigued you were. He seemed almost like a spider with you caught in his web, each word reeling you a little closer to him and the danger he presented. You found that you didn’t care- for the first time in a long while something had managed to fully pique your interest and you weren’t about to let that go.

“Now why would I do that?” You countered, looking at him from over the rim of your nearly empty glass.

He shrugged eyes never leaving yours, “It’s our game and your assistance is akin to cheating… that and…”

“And?”

“I want to see you again… but only if our meetings can remain completely separate from all that. No interference. If you agree not to assist… I will agree to keep you out of my plans.”

Jim found himself in a similar state. He had rather expected you to be like your brother and instead found that, while he could easily think up ways to play his little game with Sherlock… you were something entirely different. The way you sat across from him with no fear, no attempt to entrap him, and no indication you had any plans to inform either of your brothers left him not only pleased but impressed. You were a challenge in your own right… one he wasn’t about to pass up.

You considered his response for a moment, thinking over the options, and then smiled lightly, “Jim… are you asking me on a date?”

The teasing tone to your voice was not lost on him, a light smirk settling on his face, “Are you agreeing to my terms?”

“Obviously.”

“Say it.”

You almost shivered at the commanding tone to his voice, chewing your lip for a moment before nodding, “I will not help him. Everything that happens between us will remain entirely separate from your game… on one condition.”

“And that would be?”

“He remains alive.”

He examined you a moment, weighing his plan against your request and the changes he would have to make, and then held out a hand for you, “Agreed.”

 

You linked your hand with his, gave a firm shake in agreement, and, before releasing you, he brought your hand closer to press a light kiss to the back of it. A small mirthful giggle left your lips on its own accord and you felt his against your hand twist into a smirk, “Shall we adjourn to a more interesting location?”

“What did you have in mind?” you hummed as he stood to help you up, lightly winding your arm around his when he offered it.

“A walk? There’s a little gelato shop a bit away that’s only open after midnight.”

You glanced at the clock behind the bar as stepped out into the night- 11:55.

He didn’t wait for you to answer, arm shifting to pull you in closer with a firm hand on your hip, and you let him lead you down the street. It was surprisingly comfortable to you and Jim silently wondered how far he could push it before you drew a line. He abruptly let out a soft, almost maniacal giggle and tickled your side. 

The action effectively disturbed your thoughts and you let out a giggle as well, squirming a little while he purred, “Will you tell me now how you always know what treat I would like most on any given day?”

You laughed, shifting away from his still dancing fingers with a light slap to his hand, “You sneak! That is a secret I will never give up.”

He turned his dark eyes to meet yours, a spark of laughter filling their depths for the moment, and caught your waist to pull you in flush to him, “Never? Is that so?”

You bit your lower lip, looking up at him for a moment before leaning in teasingly so your lips nearly touched, “Hmm… let me think…”

The soft caress of your breath on his lips gave him pause for a moment, as surprised you played into his little game as he was pleased that you were so very different from your sexually repressed brother. So very interesting. A smirk curled at your lips- his response was exactly what you had anticipated and so very entertaining to you. 

“Never,” you softly breathed out before abruptly pulling away and striding off a short distance ahead, leaving him with empty arms as the ring of your laughter echoed into the night.

He blinked at the now empty space in front of him and then grinned widely, moving to catch up with you, “I always enjoy a challenge.”

You tossed him a grin when he fell in step next to you and his hand lightly returned to your hip, “Is that so?”

“Oh, you can count on it, Darling.”

A smirk settled on your face as you leaned into him a little, letting him lead the way again as you lost yourself in your thoughts. You hoped he meant it because you fully intended to keep him on his toes.

He abruptly came to a stop a short while later, pulling you into a darkened alley, and you startled a little at the abrupt action. He knocked three times on a heavy metal door framed into the alleyway wall and it swung open a moment later. You grinned widely at what you found on the other side- a small pop-up like gelato stand with some other people milling about- as he ushered you through with a smirk.

Distracted by the scene in front of you, you jumped a little when Jim purred against your ear from behind, “Care to show me if your skill at choosing things I like extends beyond your own baked goods?”

You blushed as you turned to face him with a light laugh and a nod, “I would be happy to.”

He watched you slip off to look over the options, smugly pleased with how the night had developed so far. Who knew a Holmes could be more than just an entertaining plaything? Not to say he didn’t intend to play with you. He smirked to himself- oh the ways he would play with you. He looked forward to it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how I liked this chapter guys... i mean there is good bits but it didn't go the way I expected

When you returned to him he was checking his phone to make sure his master plan was progressing smoothly and you smiled lightly, presenting him with a cup of vanilla gelato.

“Vanilla?”

“I got the sense that you would enjoy something classic and uncomplicated.”

A goofy grin spread across his face, “You never cease to amaze me, (F/n)”

You mirrored his grin, a warm feeling coming over you as it often did when you found a way to make someone else happy, and he grabbed your hand like an excited child to pull you to sit at one of the small tables. 

Jim was interesting to you. His reactions were hard to gauge and it made him a fascinating subject of your usual manipulative tendencies. You watched him settle in with his gelato, savoring it with almost childlike glee, and shook your head lightly. How could he so easily shift from dark and serious to…. this? Feeling your eyes on him, he looked up and offered you a lopsided smile, “What did you end up choosing?”

You offered him your cup to try, “Pomegranate… it seemed an appropriate choice for the moment.”

His smile slid into a smirk, “Are you likening me to Hades? This isn’t a kidnapping. You’re free to leave if you wish… for now.”

Taking another bite of your gelato, you chuckled softly, “I never quite bought into that whole part of the myth… Who’s to say Persephone didn’t go with him willingly?”

“Oh?”

You shrugged, “Most of the myth renditions are from Demeter’s point of view… It’s entirely possible it is skewed. Hades is an obvious bad boy as the God of the underworld… Persephone is young and sheltered…. to me it’s obvious she ran off with him at the promise of more intrigue and adventure.”

“And you?” He wondered, “Are you running off with me?”

Letting out a light laugh, you answered, “That remains to be seen.”

He watched you, unsurprised by your take on the well known classic and rather entranced by how you were licking your frozen treat. He should steal you away. Keep you as his. He considered this for a moment, head tilting slightly as your tongue flicked out to lick the spoon clean of your latest bite, and then decided no… that would be far less entertaining. No. He would have to lure you in. Make you come to him and then trick you into staying.

You had noticed his shift in demeanor as his dark eyes sort of glazed over in thought and gave him a moment to think, taking advantage of it by sneaking your spoon over to steal a bite of his.

You jumped when his hand shot out to catch your wrist, looking up to see his face twisted into a wicked smirk as his eyes examined you, “Look at you…. little thief.”

“Just testing you.” you blushed, surprised that he’d managed to catch you as you had been certain he was lost in thought. It wasn’t like you to be wrong… Your mind raced for a moment and then you realized he hadn’t released your wrist, clearing your throat.

He chuckled and let go, light tension in the air as you both examined each other carefully. He broke it, giving you a sudden grin, “I like you. Bold. Changeable. Exactly as I always imagined.”

“You imagined me?”

Just as it had before, his grin slipped easily into a dark smirk as he purred, “Of course, Darling. I would have thought that obvious.”

You considered this for a moment, thinking about how you could use that to your advantage in the future, and then changed the topic, “You know I will have to act as though I am assisting.”

Jim was quiet for a moment, not sure how to take that shift from you, and then nodded, “I anticipated that. As long as nothing comes of it, you may keep up the ruse.”

Silence settled in as you both finished your frozen treat, each of you openly examining the other, and then you abruptly announced, “I need to get back to the bakery.”

“I can’t escort you back.”

“I know.”

The silence settled in again for a long moment, neither of you moving to leave, and you looked up at him almost shyly, “Will Richard be stopping in tomorrow?”

He didn’t skip a beat, “Of course.”

A pleased sigh escaped your lips and you stood, straightening your dress a little, “I look forward to it.”

Jim didn’t move, watching you, “Will you finally give him your number?”

You smirked, “I wasn’t aware he wanted it…”

“Yes, you were.”

“Well… I was waiting for him to ask. I’m a bit traditional you know…” you murmured, fingering the back of the chair you’d just vacated.

“Noted.”

You hesitated for a moment and then smiled lightly, “Good night, Jim.”

“Good night, (f/n)... we will meet again soon.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brotherly Times

You had arrived home well after midnight, slipping up the steps to your flat silently, and didn’t even bother to check your phone on the table where you’d left it before going out. You could tell from its position on the table that you’d received a number of calls and texts since you’d left, likely from your brothers, and the vibration had moved it slightly. Knowing you would have to deal with that eventually but not necessarily now, you flopped into bed and fell into a dreamless sleep.

At the crack of dawn, Susan found you as she usually did, finishing up the morning round of baking with your hair pulled back and a hastily tied apron thrown over your pajamas, “Morning boss… any specials for the board today.”

You startled a little at the sound of her voice, lost in thought, and then smiled, “Oh… Susan. Good Morning. Is it that time already?”

She chuckled with a small nod, “It is.”

“I must have lost track of time….” you hummed, tilting your head to focus on the things you had made fully, “Let’s see… Specials. I made the lavender croissants and those toffee cookies everyone likes… and a new one- Pomegranate scones.”

You could hear the chalk scratching across the board as she wrote down what you’d said, leaning back against one of the wide tables used for kneading. You’d woken, early as usual, to a series of text from Sherlock demanding your presence again and a couple of calls from Mycroft- one about his pocket watch and a second more ominous one demanding you call when you had your phone with you again.

Thinking about it now,  you rolled your eyes- you knew he disapproved of you ditching your phone and shaking the security detail he almost always had on you lately. Just as you feared, now that your brothers were back in your life your freedom was nothing more than a memory.

You left out a huff and a soft whine, flopping into a spare chair in the back, “Susannnnn.”

“Coffee?”

“Please.”

You could hear her chuckle from the other room, making an offended face at the noise, and then the sounds of the machines starting up for the morning. Susan had been with you from the start of the bakery and was very used to your Holmes moods… you weren’t entirely convinced Mycroft hadn’t planted her in the applicants for the open position. Either way, you were glad for her as she could handle pretty much anything you decided to throw at her at a moments notice.

She brought you your coffee, watching you brood for a moment, and then placed it on the counter next to you, “You staying in today, Boss?”

Your hand snaked out to grab the cup as you nodded once, “Richard’s coming in. I’ll work the counter.”

Rolling her eyes,  she went back out to the front to prep for opening as she called back at you, “You might want to change then…”

You paused a moment and looked down at yourself, realizing you were still in your pajamas under your apron, “Oh… Thank you!”

“No problem!” she called as you shifted to go up and change,  adding in a slight mumble, “If you even make a move today…”

“I heard that!”

You heard her laugh as you threw open the door to your flat, quickly picking out some presentable clothes and checking your hair in the mirror before the screens started blinking behind you again.

You sighed and decided to face the music, pressing the buttons to answer, “What is it, Mycroft? I’m very busy.”

He raised a brow at you, “So it would seem the tables have turned, sister mine. Care to explain where you were last night?”

“Not particularly. No.”

“Kheiland.”

“You’ll ruin ittt,” you whined, throwing a little fit.

He frowned, “So it was a date…”

“Obviously. And I very much enjoy them, so for once, please leave well enough alone,” you demanded, slight pout betraying the fact that it was more of a pleading request.

“...fine. For now, I will not meddle.”

Mycroft wasn’t blind. He could see that this time was different and had already weighed the risks of stepping in as he usually did. Given you’d only recently forgiven him, he found it would likely bring about a less than favorable outcome.

“Thank you,” you sighed out, relieved, and then cut him off as he went to speak, “And simply having a dental appointment does not fulfill the terms of our agreement so I will be holding on to it a while longer.”

You smirked at the annoyance in his face before hitting the button to abruptly cut off the connection. That had gone better than you had anticipated. Now if only Sherlock would settle down for a moment, you would be free to wait for Richard without any further interruptions.

Cautiously picking up your phone from the table, you peeked at the screen.

20 texts… it had escalated. You sighed, running a hand down your face to think for a moment, and then grinned. It seemed to you now would be a fabulous time to put to use your brother’s newest resource.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor John

John’s phone rang and, when he looked at the caller ID to see who it was, he paused for a moment, tilting his head as his brows knit together. It simply read “Please Pick Up.”

He declined the call and it was quickly ringing again and this time it read “If Convenient.”

Though John had an inkling who it was now, he declined again and let out a relieved sigh when it didn’t immediately ring again. He glanced at Sherlock, who was having a rather dramatic sulk splayed across the couch, and then went back to his blog and tea. This lasted only a few moments before Sherlock rolled off the couch to the floor, tapping at his phone again.

It was only a matter of seconds later that John’s phone rang again, reading “If Inconvenient, Pick Up All the Same,” and Sherlock whined from the floor.

The poor doctor let out a frustrated sigh and answered, “Hello?”

“Hello John!” you chirped, much to chipper for John’s patience level, and he lowered his voice, “Where the hell are you?”

“That bad?”

“He spat out his tea on my jumper because, and I quote, ‘I wanted it with honey this time and you should have known that.’ ”

You sighed lightly, “I figured as much… my number of texts just jumped to 30.”

“Can’t you do something?”

You chewed on your lip, thinking it over for a moment and then let out a soft huff, “Tell him if he’s patient…. I will make him that strawberry cake he likes and I will be over when the bakery closes at the latest.”

John opened his mouth to argue and then closed it, letting out a sigh, “ Sherlock she says if you’re patient she will be over after work with some sort of strawberry cake.”

The curly haired detective bolted up from the floor, “The Strawberry Lemon Tower or the Strawberry Almond Dacquoise?”

“He wants to kn-”

You sighed on the other end, “I heard. The specific strawberries for the tower aren’t in season so the Dacquoise.”

 

Sherlock heard your answer before John could even relay it to him and narrowed his eyes, “A whole cake? Full sized?”

“Oh for heaven's… yes! A whole cake. But only if he behaves.”

John looked at his flatmate expectantly for his response and Sherlock had his fingers to his lips, silently calculating if it was worth it or if he could bargain for more. The good doctor stifled a laugh at the expression and thought all over a cake and you sighed softly, keeping your voice low so Sherlock couldn’t pick up on it, “If he seems like he’s going to say no, I will add a fresh batch of Jezabels to the offer.”

Sherlock smirked, having heard all the same, and John sighed, “Better add those.”

“Does he agree?”

“I agree,” Sherlock huffed and flopped into his chair, pleased he had gotten more than you had intended.

John went to inform you only to have the dial tone fill his ear and let out an annoyed sigh.

After hanging up on John, you stumbled down the stairs and into the bakery, scribbling a list as you moved.

“Susan, I need you to run to the market for me,” you announced as you stepped out to the front.

“Inspiration struck?”

 

“Bribery. I need to make a batch of Jezabels and a Strawberry Dacquoise.”

Susan paused to look at you, “A Dacquoise. I thought you disliked those since they take too long to make properly and attractively.”

“I do… unfortunately, it happens to be a favorite of my particularly difficult brother,” you handed her the list with a sigh, “I’ll get started on the Jezebels and what I can of the cake. Please be quick.”

She nodded and took the list from you, slipping out to get what you’d asked.

Gathering the supplies you needed, you sighed heavily- leave it to Sherlock to only like a dessert that takes a least three hours to bake and has to sit for six… ideally, twelve before you can even think about putting it together. You started on the Jezebels, reasoning if it kept your brother out of your hair for the day it was worth it and he ate so sparingly that overall it would be good for both of you.

The shop was quiet as you worked, the morning not quite started for the rest of the world, and it was still dark out by the time Susan got back- some early risers milling about outside the door until the shop officially opened.

You didn’t look up from slicing almonds for the cake, humming softly, “Do you think you can handle the morning rush on your own?”

She watched you for a moment as she set out the things she’d retrieved and then nodded, “Of course, Boss. I’ll let you know if he comes in.”

You just nodded slightly and she knew she’d lost you to the task and your mind, slipping out to the front to open and begin the day.


End file.
